The YaYa Nation

   She sat on the floor.....drying her long black hair, reading as she did so. If it weren't for the grey dusting at the roots of her hair, and the fact that she was reading her emails, not a romance novel, it could have been 30 years ago. For a brief few days, this precious girl was once again my roommate, shaking her head and calling me "Bells".
   8 Women - 4 days at the Beach. 7 Theatre Majors, 1 Music Major. 2 sets of former roommates. 30 some years stood between us and The University of North Carolina at Greensboro - our common denominator.
   We have been separated by time, distance, neglect and circumstance. Some of us were very close, some of us were acquaintances, some were strangers, but in the magic of the ocean air and the smoke of a bonfire, bonds were made and renewed.
   There, in the embrace of a clapboard beach house, we spent our days and nights in laughter and tears....often simultaneously. The Laughter of the variety that makes you bend at the waist and pound the table - the kind that leaves your cheeks sore and your stomach aching - The Tears of the cleansing, healing variety. Suddenly the mundane chores of cooking and cleaning, became a dance - choreographed by the Master Dancer Himself....golden and organic.
 Coffee, eggs and cinnamon rolls....Scallops and spinach, Shrimp and Grits....Country Ham and Bagels, all were elevated to gourmet cuisine when enjoyed by the sea, at a table large and warm enough for all. Small private chats...group Gab fests.....shared remembrances and an unburdening of souls. Games, Photo sessions, shell gathering, movie watching, the crafting of crowns...days and nights were filled with a joyful purpose of spirit.
  Yesterday morning, as we shared our last meal together we found ourselves the Audience as the Creator gifted us with an incomparable show. Dolphins appeared - following a Shrimp Boat. Not the two or three Dolphins that we are all familiar with seeing at the Beach, but 30, 40 or more - too many to count, undulating in the wake of the boat - churning up the water with their presence. Pelicans filled the sky, and shared it with multitudes of Giant Dragonflies and more Butterflies than I have ever seen in one place...orange ones, yellow ones, gracefully riding the wind. The Dolphins must have eaten their fill, because before we knew it, playtime commenced. Leaping, twisting and flipping, they treated us to a show better than any ever seen at SeaWorld or Marineland. Momentarily transfixed, we soon broke into Gasps and shouts and laughter....
   What a gift. Not only the Dolphins, but the entire weekend. A time such as I have never experienced.....a time to reflect on the past....a time to embrace the present.....a time to welcome the future. We are the YaYa's.....warrior women - tired but not broken....older but not old.....searching, but not lost.....individuals, but never alone.

 My friend Kathryn used this Thomas Wolfe quote to describe our time together...."Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and splendid and so good." So let it be said.....so let it be done......may it always be so.

Weighty Matters

It is a good thing that fingers are the only thing required to move when typing....I think they are currently my only functioning body part. Today, I put my pride to the side, and participated in a new (for Me) class at my Gym. I am stalled in my weight loss, and feeling kind of Rut stuck with Zumba. The cute little girl at the front desk told me I might really like "Active"...the name should have been my first clue.
  The description went something like this -"part step aerobics, part weight lifting. It's fun....you'll love it......."
   This morning I arrived at the appointed hour, and to my consternation, 95 percent of the room FULL of participants looked like Malibu Barbie! Golden tresses slicked back into a gorgeous high ponytail, or elaborate braids artfully tucked into a bun. And as a side note, may I say that I was unaware that spandex could actually BE THAT TIGHT!
    Over in the far corner were a woman in her 40's and a younger girl in gym shorts and a baggy tee....MY TRIBE!! I made my way to that side of the room, introduced myself as new, and asked what equipment I might need. Before you know it, I was set up - step, risers, dumbbells, flat disc weights and yoga mat.
    First up, the step....not too bad - my knees offered only the slightest of protestations, and it was a great cardio workout. Then came the weights.....I wisely chose lighter dumbbells. The instructor is shouting words of encouragement - 20 more - 15 more..."Ladies, don't lift the weights too high in this one - just to right under your chest".....ummmmm......I thought we were supposed to be lifting the weights - if I lifted to just under my chest, what with nursing three babies and gravity, well - lets just say I wouldn't get much benefit from the activity! I quickly looked at the beautiful people, saw how high they were raising their elbows, and followed suit. I will NOT say how far above my chest that movement required.
   Next, some floor work on the angled step unit....not too bad, until the instructor shouted" Now quick, up on your feet"...........to the amusement of the lovelies around me, they were halfway through their next set of standing weight moves before I hauled my carcass up off the floor...the room is fully mirrored, so I don't even have to imagine what I looked like....I had a 360 view!
   Sweaty, hair flying everywhere, I was overjoyed to hear "OK, now lay out your mats, this LAST section will be done in a prone position"....Down went the weights, I grabbed a Yoga mat off of the pile in the back, laid it in my space and..........I became a body in motion! My foot stepped on the mat, which was slicker than Goose S*#t, and away I went, surfing through the ranks of the young, beautiful, lanky, young enough to be my daughter populace. I must say, my balance was impressive, aided by the flailing of my arms, and the swaying of my hips. In a last ditch effort to stop my surfboard of a yoga mat, I hopped off, and stuck the dismount with a two footed landing. Mustering all of the dignity I had left, which let me tell you was minuscule, I gathered up my mat, returned to my place, and quickly laid down upon it.
   I finished the class, returned my equipment to the proper place, and headed out the double doors of the class room to my reward. Just to the right is Nirvana itself.....a small passageway with a gigantic  wall fan on either side. You push the big red button, and it becomes a wind tunnel. Given that wind is just about my favorite thing in the world, those 45 seconds of being buffeted by the giant fans is often the highlight of my day. There, standing in my unadulterated bliss, hair flying EVERYWHERE - I noticed the lovelies, exiting the class room, makeup still perfection, nary a hair out of place. They stared, aghast at my dishabille. I heard a few of them giggling, as they walked away.
   And this is how I know just. how. far. I. have. come.   I will BE their entertainment. Let them exit, laughing about that crazy older lady. I will return to this class tomorrow. Because the joke is on them. At 89 pounds lighter, I can lift weights. I can use a step for aerobics. I can get down on the floor, and even get up. I have won the victory.....thanks be to God, for the laughter of this day.

Oh, and By The Way - if I see you this afternoon, and give you that teenage boy head nod as a greeting, it's because I can't lift my arms above my chest (and we all now know how low that is) to wave.

Never. Dull.

   
       I've cleaned everything that needed cleaning, I can't go upstairs, because Clancey the Crackhouse Puppy and I must stay downstairs and keep a watchful eye. I am unable to settle down enough to read, and I can't watch T.V. in the darkened Den where Babiest Girl lies in a drug induced sleep. "No visual stimuli" is how the Doctor phrased it....so here I sit, in front of the computer, drinking my umpteenth cup of coffee for the day....a day that really started yesterday morning.
   Babiest Girl came downstairs yesterday, dressed for school, but without that usual spring to her step. As we got breakfast together, she casually mentioned that she had a bad headache - a not completely unexpected thing - the Barometric Pressure had changed in the night, and that is one of her Migraine triggers. As she was packing up to leave she said "I had the weirdest dream - I dreamed that I  hit my head on the organ". Here I will pause for a word of explanation - College Boy, being the musician that he is, just happens to have an old electric pedal organ in his Bedroom. Babiest has slept in there the last few nights, as his room is vacant, AND has the best mattress in the house. "Honey", I said, "That wouldn't even be possible...the organ is too far from the bed".
     Hippie Headache oil applied, pain meds taken, I helped Baby Girl out the door to the car - she was determined to soldier on, as she has so many times before, in the onslaught of a Migraine. With one last hug, kiss and "have a good day", she was gone....off to school....and to Field Hockey Practice, and then a special dinner and Smoosh Cake - a tradition at the Fancy Pants School.
   We were in touch a few times during the day, via text....nothing alarming - a little nausea along with the headache...typical for her. When she walked through the door at about 7:30 last night, I knew that we were in trouble....as soon as her feet crossed the threshold, she said "Mom, I don't think it was a dream", whereupon she raised her bangs, and pointed to a lump that had NOT been there when we examined her head before she left for school. The full story of the day came out, and it included visual disturbances, facial pain, and memory lapses. A quick call to the after hours on call Doc had us headed straight for the local ER.
    As we pulled into the the parking lot, we were enveloped in what can only be described as an unsavory looking assemblage of young people (P.C. for gang bangers). So many of them, that for the briefest of moments, I was afraid to get out of the car. Putting on a brave face, I put my arm around Babiest and propelled her forward and through the big Bay doors, wondering  why there were so many folks out at 8:00 on a Monday night. (I later found out that there had been another shooting, and a couple of drug overdoses)
    After a triage assessment, we were taken immediately to a room, and with mind boggling speed, my girl was being wheeled down to a CT Scan. The diagnosis - concussion with a 3cm. hematoma. Blessedly, there was no brain bleeding or swelling. She had INDEED fallen out of the bed and hit her head on the damned organ. As it was explained to me by the ER Doc (I will pause to say that the Dr.s and nurses were really terrific. We couldn't have asked for better), the Concussion probably brought on a Migraine (the visual disturbances were in both eyes - indicating Migraine not confined to the one side, which would have indicated pain from the concussion). The Doctor said that it would be best if we could stop the Migraine, giving the brain the peace and quiet it needed to heal. He recommended a standard course of the "Migraine Cocktail" - 4 different IV meds that used together had great success in putting the brakes on a Migraine.
    Let me state right here, that we are NOT medicine people. It is with trepidation that I hand out Advil, much less anything else. I have always been blessed to have Doctors that respected my views. Consequently - we medicate  very little....an antibiotic for Strep, and that's about it. So you can imagine my distress, as the list of medications were ticked off. "Breathe", I said to myself...."all will be well, and she will be helped". And it was.....and she was........after a terrifying reaction to one of the drugs (according to the nurses, and our own Doc this morning at a follow up visit, probably the Steroid). Almost immediately after they started to push the second med into the IV, a little voice piped up, sounding as if it were far away "Is it supposed to take affect so fast? I feel funny". And then, it was as if she were Linda Blair. Her limbs flailed and trembled so violently, I was certain she was having a seizure. Body stiffened, head pushed back with mouth wide open - her heart beating so fast and hard, that the little silver Anchor necklace she was wearing bounced up and down in a nightmarish dance. Out came the heart and vitals moniters.
   I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, calm and zen like....encouraging her to start her breath prayer mantra....you know - three words inhale, three words exhale....I even gave her my Mantra to use - "Trust the Gift, Trust the Giver".....inside however, I was a hot ball of fiery fear....every nerve ending screaming "Help her Lord!"
   In reality, the episode probably lasted less than 10 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Then she slept, and my eyes bored holes in the monitors....heart rate dropping....140....125.....110......99....eventually all vitals returned to normal, though they kept her for quite a while for observation. When she was cleared to go, the nurse (A wonderful Man - with a true giftedness for nursing) suggested I go get the car -  he would get her in a wheelchair, and keep watch over her while I was gone.
   I raced down the hall, through the doors and out into the night. I had forgotten about the assembled masses of unsavory looking young people. By this time it was after midnight, and my Mothers voice came, whispering in my ear - never walk alone at night.....Keys held between my fingers to function like a sort of brass knuckles (I read about that once, as a good defense....I needed it, after I gave up carrying my real set of Brass Knuckle on my key chain after college, but that is a story for another time) I jogged to my car. unlocked the door, and threw myself inside. My long skirt caught in the door, I pulled the handle to get it unstuck and.....nothing.....my door wouldn't open. Insert your choice of expletive here - you're bound to get one of them right....I used them all. You see, my window doesn't work (neither does my A.C.), and a few nights ago, John took the inside panel of the door off, to pull out the window motor, so he could order a new one. In so doing, he may or may not have broken the door handle, and then Jerry Rigged it. Always a man with a plan, he said "Don't worry about it - it should open, and if not....just crawl out the other side".....RIGHT.
    The air in my car was blue with Kitchen Words as I pulled the car out of the lot and around to the ER doors. I rolled down the passenger side window, leaned over, wearing my best "please don't hurt me" face, and inquired of the multitudes of young men loitering around the entrance if they wouldn't please help me, by opening my door from the outside. There were several that were happy to oblige, and before you know it, I was out and opening the door for Babiest Girl. My new friends were happy to help me get her into the car, and wished us well as we drove into the the night...or early morning. However you want to look at it.
   John was waiting in the Relaxation Pavillion (fine...Car Port) as we pulled into the drive, whereupon he opened the door for me (He has since Re Jerry Rigged it, so I should be fine). We got Babiest in the house and on the recliner, where she slept soundly - Clancey and I kept watch.
   So now, it is late afternoon. She lies on the sofa in the dark room...I sit here where I can watch the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest....Sometimes,It may be dark..... Often times,It may be hard....but my Life? It is never dull.